


Renunciation

by ivanna



Series: Renunciation [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanna/pseuds/ivanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Vin is working undercover he meets his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renunciation

**Author's Note:**

> The events take place one year after ‘Mea Culpa’. 
> 
> Vin's father is borrowed from "Without a Trace". 
> 
> Many thanks to Farad for beta reading.

Chris looked at bales of hay stashed near the barn. They had to be moved, and Chris was determined to do it despite the afternoon heat and burning sun. With a heavy sigh, Chris set to work. He moved a few bales and stopped to rest, straightening his back with a groan. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and Chris took it off. He wiped his face with the wet fabric and threw the shirt on the fence nearby.

"If Vin doesn't come soon, I'll kick his ass up here," he muttered. 

Chris was wrong. Vin had come out of their ranch-house a long time ago, but he was just standing at the deck, admiring the view before him. Sweat-covered Chris, bathed in sunlight, was a magnificent sight, and Vin was going to enjoy it. If Chris became a bit pissed-off in the process – well, it suited Vin just fine. Pissed-off Larabee was adorable. 

'Aw hell, Larabee is adorable in any mood,' Vin admitted to himself.

Chris' lean, muscular body was perfect – broad shoulders, a slim waist, narrow hips, incredibly long legs. And the most gorgeous ass in the world. The thought of Chris' ass made Vin switch from observation to action. He quietly came to Chris from behind and heard his muttering.

"Do you have plans for my ass?" he drawled.

Chris jerked in surprise, turned around, and scowled, seeing Vin's lop-sided grin and lazy slouch. 

"Damn, are you going to help me?" 

"I'm not crazy enough to work under such a hot sun. You know, you can get heat stroke." 

"Maybe I got it a long time ago, as I ended up with you."

"Maybe," Vin's grin turned into a huge smile. 

"Pretty sure of yourself, Tanner?"

"Uh huh."

With the speed of light, Chris moved forward, grabbed Vin and threw him on a bale of hay. With professional ease, he pinned the slim body down and looked at Vin's face. But the expression on Vin's boyish face was even more cocky than before. 

"We have a job to do and we'll do it now," Chris said, trying to sound as if he were giving an order. 

In response, Vin lifted his hips and began to rub them against Chris' crotch. His movements made his t-shirt slide up, exposing his flat muscular stomach. 

"Vin! Stop!" Chris ordered hoarsely.

"Stop what?" Vin asked innocently. "I'm just trying to break free."

"The hell you want to break free," Chris hissed. 

The feeling of Vin's hard body, the sight of his flushed face and parted lips, made Chris weak. Vin sensed it and moved; in a blink of an eye, Chris was on his back, and Vin lay on him, pressing him in hay.

"Nah, I really wanted to break free," he whispered in Chris' ear and licked the deformed shell. "Because I wanna fuck you."

Vin's words, body, actions made Chris' blood rush downward, leaving him lightheaded from desire.

"You said something about hot sun and heat stroke," Chris managed to say.

"As you said, we already got that stroke." 

Vin covered Chris' lips with his own and silenced him with a deep kiss. His nimble fingers quickly undid Chris' jeans and started to stroke Chris' erection. When Vin was sure that Chris was completely under his control, he pulled away. Chris moaned. 

"I need to undress," Vin drawled hoarsely. Keeping self-control with Chris was almost beyond his abilities. 

He quickly stripped Chris' and his own clothes off and pulled the tube of lube out from his jeans' pocket. 

"Always be prepared?" Chris asked, watching him. 

"The right motto for living with you. Turn around, don't want that hay to hurt your ass."

Chris obeyed, and Vin kneeled behind him. He quickly prepared Chris' body and sank deep inside him. Pleasure and pain mixed for them and then the pain was gone, leaving only pure pleasure and overwhelming feelings of togetherness. They moved together and came together, shouting each other's names. When the last waves of ecstasy left their bodies, they fell onto the hay in a sweaty, panting heap. 

"Thank you very fucking much, Vin," Chris groaned finally. "Now I can't move myself, let alone these bales."

Vin laughed and kissed the freckles on Chris' back. 

"Yeah, you should be thankful because I saved your pale skin from sunburn."

"I hope you didn't get sunburn on your ass. I don't want to explain to Nathan where they came from."

"Don't want it either, so move your ass into the house, we'll finish with this hay at the evening."

Again, Chris had to obey. 

 

Monday came too soon. Arriving at the Federal Building, Chris greeted the members of Team 7 who were at their workplaces already and went to the office of A. D. Travis for the weekly meeting. After the meeting, Travis asked Chris to stay.

"I have a new case for you and your team," Travis said, handing Chris a plump folder.

Chris took it and leafed through the papers as Travis continued.

"I'll tell you the truth – it's a nasty case, Chris. I took it from the other team because judging by what I've seen, only Team 7 is qualified to do this job. Put aside all your other cases and concentrate fully on this one. The FBI and the ATF have followed this man for a long time, but he slips out of their hands. We know he's shipping weapons but can't get evidence." 

"Is the FBI in there also?"

"The FBI is everywhere. But I have an agreement with the A. D. of the Denver office that they're staying away while we make this our top job."

"Well, let's get started."

Chris left Travis' office and returned to the bullpen. He stopped in the doorway and eyed the empty desks.

"Where is everybody?" he asked Josiah, who still sitting at his desk.

"Vin is down at the shooting range checking the weapons we confiscated last week, Buck went to accounting, Nathan…"

"Okay, call them. We're meeting in the conference room in 30 minutes."

Chris entered his office and started to read the papers of the new case. 

 

Vin took aim and fired. The shot was perfect. He put the rifle on a desk and took another one, checked it, loaded it and fired. The shot went slightly to the side. Vin fired again and nodded as he saw the result of this shot.

"Sight's a little off," he said to the ATF storage worker standing nearby. 

Vin put this rifle aside and reached to take the next one but stopped, feeling the vibration of his cell in his jeans' pocket. He pulled the cell out and brought it to his ear. 

"Tanner."

"Vin, come up here, Chris called a meeting," he heard Josiah's deep voice.

"Okay." 

Vin shoved the cell back into his pocket and looked ruefully at the pile of weapons. 

"I need to go," he said to the worker and hurried out of the shooting range. 

Thinking about the cause of the meeting, he entered an elevator and startled when he heard his name.

"Hey, Vin," a woman next to him said. "Do you need the 11th floor?"

Vin nodded. 'Why the hell do they all know me?' he wondered. Looked like the whole female part of the Federal Building's staff knew Vin's name, his place of work and God knew what else. 'Aw hell,' he sighed inwardly.

 

Gradually all of Team 7 gathered in the bullpen. Chris came out of his office and ordered, "The conference room." The agents got up and followed Chris. They entered the conference room and took their usual seats. JD, who had received the order to copy Travis' folder earlier, put files before each member of Team 7. 

"We got a new case," Chris said. "Pico Chavez, 45 years old, lives in Colorado Springs. He is suspected of shipping weapons among other things, such as racketeering and a few murder attempts. But he is clean before the law. We know his business is dirty but can't prove it. No evidence, no witnesses, no hints."

The agents leafed through the files, getting acquainted with the case. Finally Vin raised his head and said, "We need a mole. One of us inside his business. No playing with snitches." 

"I hasten to inform you that I can't work undercover at this time," Ezra said. "I had the dubious pleasure to arrest the gentleman who is listed as the right-hand man of Mr. Chavez back in the days when I was with the FBI."

"Shit. You got that guy once, why the hell did you release him?" Buck murmured. 

"Getting a job in his business will take time," Chris said.

"Don't think so," Vin answered. "The list of his property includes the club 'Gloves'. I bet this club provides illegal fights. I can come to Chavez and ask for a fight."

"You're not the fighter, Vin," Chris scowled.

"Aw hell, Chris, I may not be an Olympic boxer but I'm good at fighting without rules, and you know it."

And he really was, Chris had to admit. 

"The idea is good, but why Vin?" Buck asked. "Me or Josiah can do it. At least we have a normal weight." 

"No, Bucklin," Vin shook his head. "You'll alarm someone as paranoid as Chavez. He'll start digging into your past and sooner or later realize you're a mole. But a young man who got into trouble and needs money at any cost – well, it's an ordinary thing, he can buy into it." 

"Do you realize that you can become his property?" Chris asked. He didn't like this plan at all. 

"It'll be nice. I'll get access to his secrets."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have. Just authorize it."

"Any other ideas?" Chris asked Team 7. 

"Chris, Vin's plan might work," Josiah said. "We all hate to put Vin in danger but seems like it's the only way to do our job."

"Okay," Chris gave up. "Let's start."

7777777

Vin arrived in Colorado Springs in the afternoon and rented a room in a cheap motel. He wandered around the city until nightfall and then headed to the club 'Gloves'. The club looked exactly as Vin had imagined. Vin went to the bar and asked the bartender where he could find the owner.

“Why do you need him?” the bartender asked.

“I have personal business with him,” Vin answered, a bit cocky.

In the mirror Vin noticed as the bartender nodded to one of the guards who disappeared. Vin ordered a cola and started waiting. Soon the guard was back. After talking with the bartender, he approached Vin and said shortly, “Come with me.” Vin obeyed. He was led into the back area of the club and pushed into one of the rooms. The room looked like an office, and Vin recognized immediately the man sitting at a wide desk. It was Pico Chavez. 

Chavez eyed him. He saw a skinny young man in worn jeans and t-shirt before him. This young man looked as if he was on the verge of despair. Finally Chavez said, “I was told that you want to see me. What do you want, kid?”

“I wanna fight,” Vin tried to sound cocky and desperate at the same time.

“Why have you decided that I’m interested in this?”

“I heard a rumor that you arrange fights. I’m good in fighting.”

“Really?” Chavez said skeptically.

“Really. I was the best at college, even got a stipend for it. I can beat everybody, any fighter you throw on me.”

“If you’re so good what you’re doing here looking for a club fight?” 

Vin lowered his eyes and paused hesitating then snapped, “All right, I need money. I got into big trouble. So why don’t we stop talking and you give me a few fights?”

“Hmmm… What is your name?”

“Luck. Luck Deduck.”

“How much you weight?”

“About 157 pounds.”

“Almost light middleweight… It’s bad.”

“What’s wrong with light middleweight?”

“Too many problems. Anyway, I’m still not impressed… Take off your shirt.”

Vin hated to do it but obeyed. He pulled the t-shirt off and strained his muscles. Chavez nodded, pleased this time. “Okay, I’ll give you a fight. Tomorrow at 9 p.m., at the club here.”

“I’ll be there,” Vin promised. Pulling the t-shirt on, he came out of the office. The guard who was waiting behind the door led him back to the bar. Then the guard returned to the office and got the order from Chavez, “Check out that Luck Deduck. But I think he is clear. Just a desperate kid.”

 

Vin didn’t brag when he said that he was a good fighter. Well, the part about collage and a stipend was a bluff but it didn’t change the main fact. And the next night, Vin proved it easily. He beat his opponent so nice and convincingly that he got a stack of money and an offer to fight for the club after that. He took both – money and offer. 

Vin returned to the motel after midnight. He dropped onto the bed and examined his fists. They were sore but not too bad. A few bruises from the fight didn’t bother him too much. Vin shoved his hand into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out earned money. Counting it,, he whistled.

“Aw hell, this fighting thing pays better than my fucking job,” he muttered, shoving the money back into his pocket. In another pocket, he kept his new cell. He wanted to call Chris’ special number, the one registered for this op, but he should do it only if he really had something important to say.

 

A few of Vin's next fights were also successful, and Chavez’s attitude toward him changed. The amount of money he earned because of 'Luck' forced Chavez to bring Vin closer to him. Vin served as a driver, guard, and messenger, and it suited him just fine. And one day Vin got what he needed. 

He drove Chavez from one club to another. Somebody called on Chavez’s cell, and Vin habitually listened to the conversation. He needed all his skills to keep his face blank when he heard that this conversation was about ‘shipping goods’. The goods could be anything, but Vin got a feeling that Chavez talked about weapons. Carefully, Vin looked at his watch and noted the time. When Chavez let him go for lunch, Vin went to the city garden. Sitting on a bench in the meadow, he pulled his cell out and dialed Chris’ new number. Chris answered the call after the first beep, “Hello.”

“Today he got a call at 10:38, near the crossroads of North 13th and West Kiowa Streets. He talked about shipping something.”

“Roger. How are you?”

“Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow night. Out.” 

Vin finished the call and cleared the call log. Team 7 had something to occupy themselves now. 

 

Vin’s call started vigorous activity for Team 7. It was the first hint the ATF was able to get and Team 7 hoped the case would move forward finally. Chris requested the list of calls passed through the cell tower serving the area which Vin had named. When they got it, they started to rummage through it, trying to find the number of Chavez’s interlocutor and then him in person. A two-day hunt brought good results, and Chris was looking forward to Vin’s call that night. He was going to say they took the trace, and Vin could leave his undercover work. But Vin never called. And never answered when Chris dialed his number repeatedly, throughout the night. 

With the first crack of dawn, Chris called to Buck. “Vin didn’t call, and I can’t reach him, his cell is off. I'm going to Colorado Springs.”

“Chris, maybe it’s just something wrong with Junior’s cell,” Buck tried to reassure Chris.

“Vin isn’t a kid going for a walk, he is an undercover agent among potential murderers. Be ready, I’ll call you from Colorado Springs.”

Chris was in Colorado Springs less than an hour later. He knew where Vin lived and quickly found the motel. He got out of the RAM and headed to the door of Vin’s room preparing the ‘Beretta’ for firing. He stopped near the door and listened carefully. He heard nothing. Chris knocked on the door and got no answer. He kicked the door in with his shoulder and busted inside with the ‘Beretta’ at the ready. And froze in horror when he saw Vin’s lifeless body sprawled on the bed. 

Chris forced himself to move forward. He went to the bed and touched Vin's neck. Vin moaned, and Chris felt dizzy with relief. The moan turned into a cough, and Vin curled into a ball and pressed his hands to his left side, still coughing. Chris sat on the bed and held him until the coughing subsided. Chris couldn’t fully examine Vin’s body but it was clear that Vin was severely beaten. Bruises covered Vin’s face and arms, and judging by the way Vin held on to his side, a couple of his ribs were fractured or broken. Chris prayed that the cough wasn’t a sign of severe internal injury and the previous unconsciousness wasn't a sign of severe brain injury.

“Vin, what happened?” Chris asked when the coughs turned into gasps.

“Sonofabitch,” Vin croaked.

“Did Chavez find out who you are?”

“No… I lost the fight and he kicked the shit outta me... He lost money because of me.”

“Bastard.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“You didn't call and your cell is off.”

“Aw hell. Maybe the battery was disconnected when I fell on the cell.”

“How long have you lying here?”

“Don’t remember. Chavez’s guards brought me here… Doesn't matter, anyway. Chris, you need get out of here. You’re blowing my cover.”

“Your undercover work is over.”

“No, Chris, we’re so close…”

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m fine…” A new wave of coughing didn’t let him finish. Vin coughed up blood, his lips turning blue. 

Chris swore and pulled the cell out from his pocket to dial 911. Vin slapped his hand, stopping him. 

“No,” he rasped, panting. “No ambulance. They report to the Police from where they get the call. No need in the Police digging around this place, they can find out about Chavez and screw-up our op.”

“Vin…”

“Help me to get to the RAM. Say you found me somewhere.”

Chris hesitated, but he knew Vin was right. “Okay.”

"Wait a minute… In my left pocket… Take it."

Chris slipped his hand into the left pocket of Vin's jeans and pulled out a thick wad of money. 

"For our ranch…" Vin rasped. 

"Oh, boy." 

Chris shoved the money in his pocket, then put his hands gently on Vin’s shoulders and tried to seat him on the bed. Vin cried and pressed his hands tightly to his side. Chris pulled away.

“No,” Vin rasped. “Never mind. Do it.”

Chris braced himself and started again. He encircled Vin’s shoulders with one arm, put his other arm under Vin’s knees and lifted the slim body from the bed. Moaning and panting, Vin pressed his left hand to his hurt ribs and clung to Chris’ shoulders with his right hand. Chris hurried to the door and then to the RAM. He managed to open the passenger door of the RAM and lowered Vin carefully into the passenger seat. He ran around the car, climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine and rushed forward, thanking God he knew Colorado Springs well enough. He found the hospital quickly and brought Vin inside. 

“What happened?” a nurse asked, approaching them.

“I found him in the street, he is severely beaten,” Chris answered. 

“Follow me.”

Chris was led into the ER and asked to lay the injured man on the examination table behind a blue curtain. 

“What is your name?” a nurse asked Vin.

“Luck… Deduck… My driver's license…'s in my pocket.”

Chris frowned but said nothing. 

“What happened to you, Luck?”

“I… I don’t know… some guys attacked me…”

“He was unconscious, I don’t know for how long,” Chris said to the nurse.

“We’ll examine him,” a nurse assured Chris. “Please, go to the nurses' station and fill out the papers.”

7777777

Vin was lying in the ward alone. His ribs hurt like hell but his shortness of breath had decreased slightly and he was angry with himself. He had messed up the op. He should have won yesterday's fight. He shouldn’t have let Chris drag him to the hospital. ‘You fucked up, Tanner,’ he muttered and winced at the pain in his split lips. 

The door opened and Chris came inside. He looked around and was pleased to see that Vin was the only occupant of the ward.

“You should let me request a single room for you,” he said, approaching Vin’s bed and sitting on its edge.

“Larabee, it’s the wrong time and place for dicking around,” Vin answered, putting his hand on Chris’ thigh. 

“Do you call caring about you ‘dicking around’?” 

Vin’s split lips didn’t prevent him from smiling his lop-sided grin. “To some extent, yes, Cowboy.”

Chris shook his head and took Vin’s swollen fingers, which were wandering around his thigh, carefully into his own hand. “You know, Vin, I'm not surprised that you pissed off Chavez.” 

“What did the doctor say?”

“You have a couple of cracked ribs and a lung contusion. Thank God your thick Texan head is fine. You have to take painkillers and antibiotics, no activity for three weeks. The doctor wants to keep you overnight. If everything is all right in the morning, he’ll release you tomorrow.”

“Shit. I don’t want to be here.”

“It’s not a question.”

Vin knew when he couldn’t argue with Chris. He changed the subject, “You know, Chris, you don’t look like the Good Samaritan, worrying about your neighbor. Did the doctor buy that you were just a bystander?”

Chris chuckled. “Don’t think so. He suspects that I have feelings for you.”

“Do you really have feelings for me, Larabee?” Vin asked silkily.

“Oh yeah, I have, Tanner. God help me, I love you.”

He leaned forward and kissed gently Vin’ lips. When he pulled back Vin whispered, “Love you, too.”

“I have to go to Denver. Rest now, I'll be back in the evening. Take this just in case.” 

Chris pulled out his ‘Beretta’ and shoved it under Vin’s pillow. Vin nodded. 

Chris clasped Vin’s forearm, and they were still for a moment, looking into each other's eyes. Then Chris got up and left the ward. Vin turned on his side and slipped his hand under the pillow, touching the ‘Beretta’. The feel of cold steel under his fingers was reassuring, more so because it was a part of Chris than because it was a deadly weapon. Vin fell asleep. 

 

The next morning the doctor agreed to release Vin from the hospital. Vin got his papers and prescriptions, pulled on his own clothes and waited for Chris, who promised to pick him up. The door opened but instead of Chris or the hospital staff, Vin saw men in suits in the doorway. 

“Luck Deduck?” one of them asked.

“Yeah.”

“The FBI,” the man showed his badge. “Come with us.”

“Am I arrested?”

“Not yet. We want to ask you a few questions.”

Vin quickly considered his options. He didn’t have anything to prove who he really was, other than his fingerprints, and he wanted to know what it was all about, anyway. He got up and followed the agents obediently.

 

Chris hurried along the hospital corridor to Vin’s ward. He was late but the Chavez case had taken a new turn and he hadn't been able to leave Denver earlier. Chris reached Vin’s ward, opened the door and stilled in the doorway. The ward was empty. 

Chris turned around and rushed to the nurses' station. No matter how much Vin was eager to leave the hospital, he wouldn’t have done it without informing Chris. Vin had been kidnapped. 

“Where’s Luck Deduck, the patient from the ward 413?” he asked the nurse on duty. 

She checked her records and answered, “He was released this morning.”

“I know it. I came to pick him up. But he isn’t here.”

“We don’t watch patients after their release.”

Chris’ short temper exploded. He took his badge and shoved it into the nurse’s face. “Lady, I am a federal agent and Luck Deduck is involved in a federal operation. If something happened to him, you will be responsible before the law and before me.”

Chris's face frightened the nurse more than his words and the badge in his hand.

“They took him,” she said shakily.

“Who?”

“The FBI.”

“What?!”

“They showed their badges, said they need him and took him with them.”

“Sonofabitch,” Chris swore. He left the nurse alone and hurried away, boiling with anger. The FBI’s boss fucked up the agreement with Travis and the ATF op. And he got Vin who was in no shape for the FBI’s hospitality. Chris was ready to kill that sonofabitch.

Chris got to Denver and the FBI office there in a record time. He stormed into the A. D.'s office without paying any attention to the attempts to stop him. 

“What’s going on?” the A. D. asked, starring at Chris.

“You tell me what’s going on,” Chris said and added, “Sir.” 

When the initial shock had passed, the A. D. recognized Chris. “Senior Agent Larabee, do you realize what you are doing?”

“I realize it pretty well. I got an order to get Chavez. I was told that I received free rein around this case and the FBI and others were out of it. My man was put inside Chavez’s business, we got a lead and found something to pin on that bastard – and then the FBI shows up and detains my man.”

“What?”

“The guy taken in the hospital in Colorado Springs this morning is my sniper, Vin Tanner.”

“Why didn't he say something about it?”

“He’s doing his job, not yours.”

“I don't like your tone of voice, Senior Agent. I’m not obliged to give you any explanations, but I will do it. I stuck to the agreement with A. D. Travis but a few days ago, Deputy Director of the FBI Victor Fitzgerald arrived in Denver with the intention of personally inspecting our field office. He disagreed with my decision about the Chavez case and the case was reopened.”

"You could have informed me about it."

"As you said, we're doing our job and you're doing yours."

"To hell with what you're doing, you put my op and my man in danger. I demand that you release Tanner immediately.”

“You can demand nothing, Senior Agent. And he isn’t here.”

“Where’s he?”

“In Colorado Springs, along with the Deputy Director.”

7777777

Vin was sitting in the interrogation room of the local police station. He knew rooms like this pretty well and knew the FBI guys were standing behind the mirrored window, watching him. He brought his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, wondering idly when they would begin to question him. They'd better hurry, because Chris would be here soon. And sure as hell, Chris would be mad.

The door opened, and two agents entered the room. They showed their badges, put the recorder on the desk, then one of them sat in the chair opposite Vin and the other leaned against the wall. ‘The good cop and the bad cop. Classic. These guys can’t come up with anything new,’ Vin sighed inwardly. 

“Mr. Deduck, what kind of job do you do for Pico Chavez?” ‘the good cop’ asked.

“Kinda an errand boy.”

“Is this a new name for illegal fighting?” ‘the bad cop’ said.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Boy, look at yourself in that mirror. You're black and blue.”

“I was attacked by bullies.”

“Yeah, we read about that in your hospital records. Are your knuckles smashed by bullies too?”

Vin looked at his fists, sore after the fights and shrugged. "I tried to defend myself."

“Luck, you're in big trouble, but if you’ll be a good boy and help us, than we’ll try to help you,” 'the good cop' said.

Vin licked his lips, deciding what to do next. ‘What the hell spurred the FBI?’ he wondered. He looked up and stared at the mirrored window as if trying to pierce it with his glare. 

“What do you want to know?” he asked the agents.

 

Victor Fitzgerald was standing behind the mirrored window, looking inside the interrogation room and frowning. Something was wrong. The detained man looked like a scared boy, acted like a scared boy, but he wasn’t a scared boy at all. In fact, it looked like he questioned the FBI agents, not they him. When the detained man looked straight at him through the glass, Victor felt strangely uneasy inside. Definitely something was very wrong. Victor was here because he wanted to personally check the actions of the FBI agents in the field but the detained man drew his whole attention.

The SAC of the FBI field office approached Victor and stood near the window, looking inside the room, too. He was holding papers in his hand.

“Luck Deduck doesn't exist, sir,” the SAC said. “We checked his papers. They’re fake, but very high quality fake.”

Victor wasn’t surprised. 

“This guy could be anyone but he isn’t a small fry,” the SAC continued. “I think we should take him to our office and interrogate him by book.” 

The SAC’s cell rang. He pulled it out and brought it to his ear. His face changed during the call. “Johnson… Yes, sir… Are you sure, sir? Yes, sir, I’ll release him immediately.” 

When the SAC ended the call, Victor looked at him questioningly. The SAC looked as if he had been punched in his gut.

“This guy is the undercover ATF agent, sir,” the SAC croaked. “His boss just informed the A. D. about it.”

Victor stared at the man in question through the glass. The ATF agent? It didn’t suite him, too. And it didn’t explain Victor’s uneasiness. 

“What is his name?” he asked the SAC.

“Vin Tanner. He’s a sniper of ATF's Team 7. Perhaps it’s why we didn’t recognize him – Team 7 keeps aloof from the rest of the ATF. I've heard about Tanner but never met him.”

The name stunned Victor. He had known a man named Vin Tanner a long time ago. But that man was old even back then. This man was in his mid twenties. His face was bruised, his left eye swollen shut, his lips were split – but Victor thought he could see something familiar under those injuries. 

The SAC’s voice returned him to reality.

“I need to release him.”

“No,” Victor ordered. “Call off your agents and leave him alone for a while. Find me his file.”

“Sir, the personal data of the federal agents…”

“Do it.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Vin was alone again. It puzzled him a bit; he assumed the feds knew who he was already, but they hadn't let him go. Vin shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. His ribs, despite their bandages, hurt like hell, and he wanted nothing more than to stretch out on the couch at the ranch, using Chris as a pillow. Or using Chris for something else. Vin forced himself to stop thinking about Chris and switch to the current case. The only thing he was able to pull out of those agents was that they knew nothing about Chavez and wanted to use him as a snitch. 

Vin got up and took a few steps, hoping it would chase away the dull ache in his side. It did – the dull ache became acute pain, and Vin sat again. He glanced at the window. He felt that he was being watched, but who and why was doing it?

 

Victor didn’t ask the FBI agents where they found the info about Tanner. When the printed sheets of paper were brought to him, he requested the office be emptied, firmly closed the door, and only then looked at the papers. The face on the photo looked even younger then in reality. The boyish good looking face with a square jawline and huge bright-blue eyes. Victor had seen these eyes before. In Tascosa, a long time ago. He looked at the line ‘place of birth’ on the paper in his hand and saw 'Tascosa, TX'. 'Parents: mother – Catherine Tanner, father – unknown'. His suspicions came true, this man was Catherine’s son, the grandson of old Vin Tanner. Victor looked at the date of birth, and his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t difficult to subtract nine months and remembered when he was in Tascosa investigating a federal crime. When he met Catherine and fell in love with her. This man was his son. 

Victor stood still for a while, then he forced himself to read Tanner’s bio. Orphanages, foster homes, a ranch for troubled teens, the Army, the Marshals' Office, bounty hunting, the ATF. In his 26 years, Tanner had experienced a lot. Victor was lost in thought. What did Vin Tanner know about his father? What was he going to do about it? According to his bio, he was smart, determined and dangerous. He could be a threat to Victor’s future. 

Victor folded the papers and shoved them into his pocket, then he left the office and ordered his car and for Tanner to be brought to it. 

 

Vin looked up when the door of the interrogation room opened. 'The good cop' stood in the doorway. But he didn't look 'good' anymore. More likely he looked like 'the mad cop'. 

"Agent Tanner, you shouldn't have misled the federal investigation," he said.

"I didn't get an order to break cover," Vin answered calmly. 

"You'll be punished for it. Deputy Director Victor Fitzgerald wants to talk to you. Privately."

Vin shrugged and got up, keeping calm. "Okay, lead on." 

'What the hell is the Deputy Director doing here and why the hell does he need me?' Vin wondered when the FBI agent led him out of the police station and to the luxury black 'Mercedes'. The FBI agent opened the door of the car and gestured for Vin to take a back seat. Vin obeyed and found himself next to a man who could only be the Deputy Director. The door closed, and the driver moved the car forward. Vin turned his head, eyeing the Deputy Director. He was a tall, lean blond in his mid fifties. His stern face looked as if it was carved in stone and no trace of any emotion was in his pale blue eyes. He didn't look at Vin and said nothing. Vin turned away from him and leaned his head back against the seat, looking at the road. They were heading out of the city. 

When they were far enough from Colorado Springs, on the empty road in the middle of nowhere, the Deputy Director ordered the car stopped. The driver turned off the ignition, got out of the car and closed the door. 'Does he want to kill me and throw my body into a mountain precipice?' Vin thought. It sure as hell looked like that. It was obvious that all this shit had nothing to do with work and the Chavez case. 'But why does he want to do something with me? I've never seen him before and know nothing about him.'

Victor turned to Vin and pierced him with his glare. Vin stared back at him defiantly. ‘He has guts,’ Victor admitted. ‘He is even more dangerous than I thought.’

“I’ve decided not to wait until you do something and warn you in advance,” he said aloud, still watching Vin. “I have absolute power, and if you try to blackmail me or do any harm to my career, I will destroy you.”

“What are you talking about?” Vin asked, startled.

“I want to enter politics. My illegitimate son can be a powerful weapon against me. Don’t even dare to use the fact of your existence to harm me.”

“Your illegitimate son?” Vin rasped. He felt as icy fingers squeezed his guts. It couldn’t be real, it was too terrible to be real. 

“Don’t tell me your mother and grandfather didn’t tell you.”

“My mother died when I was 5. Don’t remember my grandfather.”

Victor closed his eyes for a moment. So Catherine was dead. He had thought her son was sent to an orphanage because she couldn’t raise him herself. But she was dead. Her image appeared vividly before his eyes. Vin was a lot like she. 

Vin’s shock gave way to rage and he said, barely controlling himself, “Look, you sonofabitch, I don’t know why you are my father but I don’t want to have anything to do with you. You dumped my mother, you didn't give a shit about me, and you remembered us only because of your fucking career. Be sure, I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want to see you, to hear about you, to be near you. You can go to hell!”

Vin opened the door blindly, jumped out of the car and stumbled away, pressing tightly his hand to his hurt ribs. Or maybe that was his heart aching so much that he could barely breathe. 

Victor was sitting still, looking after Vin. His son. That was his son. Finally he gestured to the driver to take his place and a few minutes later the black ‘Mercedes’ sped toward Denver.

Vin went about a mile along the road until realized that he didn’t know where he was and where he was going. He sat on a piece of rock and looked around. He really was in the middle of the nowhere. ‘What should I do now?’ he muttered and remembered about his cell. The FBI agents had returned it to him. If only the connection was working here. Vin pulled the cell out from the pocket of his jeans and looked at its display. It was working. He dialed Chris’ number. Chris answered after the first beep. 

“Vin? Where’re you? What’s going on?”

“Chris, pick me up.” 

“Vin, where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. I’ll tell JD to trace your cell. Hold on, I’ll find you soon.”

“’kay.”

 

Chris was more than just worried. He returned to Colorado Springs and found out that the Deputy Director had taken Vin away. He was ready to smash the police station and the faces of the feds to pieces, but it wouldn’t return Vin. Chris was going to call JD and ask him to trace Vin's cell or the Deputy Director’ car or anything but as he pulled his cell out, Vin called. 

Vin’s call brought Chris’ worry up to a new level. Vin sounded hurt, his body and his soul where in pain. When JD located Vin, Chris jumped into the RAM and rushed there. He saw Vin’s slouched figure sitting on a stone from afar. Approaching him, Chris skidded to a halt, jumped out the RAM and ran to Vin.

Vin looked at him and said simply, “Chris, take me home.”

Chris embraced him gently. “Are you hurt?” 

Vin shook his head. “No. Just my ribs are sore and it's hard to breathe.”

“What did that bastard do to you?”

Vin’s eyes darkened and he said bitterly, “He’s my father, Chris.”

“What?!” 

Vin nodded and repeated, “Take me home.”

Chris helped him up and into the RAM. Vin leaned his head wearily back against the seat and closed his eyes. The familiar scent and sound around him were a balm to his tortured soul. They were something real in his shattered world. And Chris was here, Chris loved and needed him. Vin reached out his hand, and Chris took his swollen fingers, kissed them lightly and put them on his thigh.

“Tell me everything,” he asked. 

Vin obeyed. When he ended, Chris hissed, “Sonofabitch.” He wanted to kill that bastard with his bare hands. 

“Before my mom died, she told me ‘Boy, you're a Tanner. Don't you ever forget that.’ Even though I was just a little feller those words have echoed in my heart to this day,” Vin said quietly. “Who am I now?”

“Vin, you are a Tanner, always were and always will be. Your mother would be proud of you.”

7777777

Saturday morning Chris woke before Vin. It had happened very rarely but Vin was still out of his normal shape. Chris slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Vin. He quickly did his morning tasks and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. When breakfast was almost ready, Chris turned from the stove and saw Vin standing in the doorway.

“Your timing is perfect as always,” Chris chuckled. “Morning.”

“Morning, Cowboy.”

Vin yawned widely and sat at the table. They ate in comfortable silence.

“Gonna help you with the horses,” Vin said after breakfast.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What should I think about? I’m out of undercover work, investigation, anything. I’m just lying here like a log,” Vin complained. 

“You’re a pretty nice log,” Chris chuckled. 

Vin showed him his middle finger. 

“You know, I don’t know why you want an English degree. You’re pretty eloquent without words.”

Vin opened his mouth for a reply but the sound of an approaching car caught his attention. Chris heard it too. They exchanged a glance.

“Boys?” Vin asked.

“They weren’t going to come.”

Chris went to the window facing the front elevation and peered out. He frowned when he saw the black ‘Mercedes’ in the driveway. He had a very clear idea who was coming. 

The ‘Mercedes’ stopped and Victor Fitzgerald got out of it from the driver’s seat. Chris recognized him immediately; JD had found him the info about this man. Victor went to the porch and knocked on the door. Chris opened the door. Victor stared at him.

“What are you doing here?” Victor asked.

“I can ask the same question,” Chris answered. 

“I was told that Vin Tanner lives here.”

“He does. But I don’t think he wants to see you.”

“Let him in, Chris,” Vin said quietly. 

Chris turned around and looked at Vin standing a few feet behind. “Are you sure?”

Vin nodded, and Chris stepped aside. Victor entered the house.

“I’ll be at the barn,” Chris said and left them.

Victor looked after him then turned to Vin, eyeing his old jeans and t-shirt, tousled hair and bare feet. Vin looked casual and comfortable, as well as the man who had just left. 

“Are you living together?” he asked.

“What, it can damage your career, too?”

“Vin, I have thought about you. I was wrong.”

Vin listened indifferently.

“I can’t hide you. Sooner or later someone will find out about you. I should present you to the public and recognize you as my son. Get ready, you're coming with me to Washington.”

Vin stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t have any feelings, do you? You want to bring your bastard son into your home, to your wife and children. Do you think about their feelings? No, you don’t know what it means at all.”

“My wife will understand.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Think about yourself. I'll give you a great future.”

“I told you before and I’m telling you now: I don’t need anything from you.”

“Vin…”

“Leave me alone.”

Vin turned and disappeared into one of the rooms, the door slamming behind him. Victor stood still for a moment then left the house.

Chris was waiting for him, leaning against a hood of the ‘Mercedes’. 

“I have no problem killing you if you show up here again,” Chris said when Victor approached him. 

“I don’t want to hurt Vin.”

“You already did it. Do you have any idea what he went through?”

“I don’t have to give you any explanation.”

“I don’t need them.”

Their glares met. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Victor gave up suddenly. He looked away and said quietly, “I loved his mother. We couldn’t be together, I had a big future ahead and she was just a farmer’s daughter but I loved her with all my heart. When the investigation in Tascosa was over, I left that town and never came back. I didn’t know she was pregnant and didn’t know about our son. She had my number but she never called and told about it. She was proud… he is proud too.”

“I had a son and lost him forever. You found a son. Learn to appreciate it.” 

Victor was silent, then asked, “You’re Chris Larabee, Vin’s CO, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t try to use it to manipulate Vin – we’ll quit the ATF soon.”

“I asked him to go to Washington.”

“Vin’s home is here.”

Chris straightened and walked away from the car. Victor got into the ‘Mercedes’ and paused before closing the door.

“Larabee?”

“What?”

“Take care of him.”

Chris nodded. Victor closed the door and drove away.

Chris stood in the driveway for a few minutes then entered the house. He went straight to the bedroom and saw Vin lying on the bed there.

“What were you talking about?” Vin asked. 

“He loved your mother, Vin. He didn’t know about you.”

“He left her.”

“I don’t say he isn’t a bastard. But try to understand him.”

“My whole childhood, I wanted to have a father. I imagined how he looked, why he couldn’t be with me… Reality turned out that it’s better to be an orphan than a bastard son of Victor Fitzgerald.”

Chris lay on the bed behind Vin and embraced him.

“You know, I can’t understand how a man like Fitzgerald can have a son like you. But on the other hand,” Chris leaned over and kissed Vin’s temple, “It explains your investigating skills.”

“Thank him very fucking much.”

Chris chuckled, remembering something. “Do you know that Ezra left the FBI because of Fitzgerald?”

Vin turned in Chris’ embrace and looked curiously at him. “Really?”

“Uhu. Fitzgerald checked the Atlanta field office in the same way as he is checking the Denver office now and found out some of Ezra’s semi-legal affairs. Ezra had to resign very quickly.”

“Poor Ezra. He may decide to take a revenge on me.”

“Will you tell the boys?”

“They deserve to know.”

“We can invite them here tomorrow.”

“No. I want this weekend just for us.”

“Vin, your ribs…”

“To hell with those ribs. I need you.”

Vin clasped Chris’ neck with his hand, pulling him closer and pressing his lips to Chris’ mouth. Chris returned the kiss eagerly. He needed Vin, too.

END


End file.
